


(There Is) No Beat, No Melody

by DeductionIsKey



Series: Life Doesn't Discriminate [1]
Category: 18th Century CE RPF, 19th Century CE RPF, Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Aaron Burr centric, All Historical Facts, Angst, F/M, Gen, Major Character Death Likes Wowee, Some of These Characters Are Just Mentioned, You Can Learn Stuff In Only 1000 Words, You Know How Long This Took?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-26
Updated: 2017-10-26
Packaged: 2019-01-23 08:07:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12502776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeductionIsKey/pseuds/DeductionIsKey
Summary: July 11th, 1804.Burr tries to tell himself that this month is one of independence and jubilantation. That’s not a lie.It’s not.





	(There Is) No Beat, No Melody

**Author's Note:**

> I finally wrote a Hamilton fic! 
> 
> My computer is not working... Ughh 
> 
> I wrote half of this on my phone.. and the other half on a glitchy screen.. But it was worth it? 
> 
> I just got Ron Chernow's biography yesterday, which is what inspire this little vagabond into fruitation. 
> 
> Enjoy!  
> ~Deduction

-

1800 is a mark in the chapters of this newly established America, the year that promises to herald patriotism and good will, even as England seeths in the aftermath.

1800 marks the future. And the future is bleak.  
-  
It starts with Jefferson. The half-manipulative probs that he dished out, even as Burr responds likewise, flirting with the ladies and laughing with the men.

He’s good at this.

It shocked him somewhat, as he had personally watched Hamilton collapse when it came to small talk, and ne’er was there a thing that he excelled in that Alexander did not utterly trample him with. He’s good at this.  
-  
He had had his ups and downs with his relationship with Hamilton, the fights and the whispered insults, but he’d thought they were on solid ground.

Weren’t they?  
-  
The news comes in the morning delivered by a shivering boy who hands him the letter with a quick glance toward his coin purse sitting at the end of his table, the news that he _might actually win_. He has a chance.

The time for waiting is over.  
-  
_Talk Less. Smile More_.

He listens to that advice he’d given Alexander so many years ago, saying thousands of words a day, but none of them something that someone could call him upon. He is brilliant, his speeches incandescent, his name a common thing in the good Christian home.

He finally has a headline. He finally means _something_.  
-  
Jefferson is nervous as the weeks progress, his actions aimed less toward what he would do to what Burr _wouldn’t_ do. It thrills Aaron, knowing that for once he could be more than just a guy in the New York Assembly, more than just there.

The votes climb higher.  
-

It’s a tie. 73 is the number that blazes in his mind as he stares at the newspaper with some disbelief and a fair amount of awe. He’d never expected to get this far.

He’s gotten this far.

-

Theodosia -darling, darling Theodosia, who greets him with a smile and a “I heard, I’m so happy for you!”- is getting married. The groom -Joseph Alston, a good boy- almost nervously slips the ring on her finger as Reverend Johnson proclaims them wed.

Behind the curtains hides a Francophile, faintly whispering to a Delaware Delegate.

This is not a democracy.

-  
  
The day is February 2nd, 1801, when it’s decided. He’s lost and all was for naught.

The effects dwindle as he starts his search for blame. Anyone, anyone, but him was responsible for this. The evidence all points to one man.

_How dare he._

-

Now that Aaron’s eyes are cleared, it is obvious the mechanisms that had controlled his election since day one, the utter bias that Hamilton had spread the entire time, before he’d even started to try, even started to care.

He would have justice.  
-  
It's May, 1802, when Theodosia’s son is born. His eyes, so beautiful, a echoing brown that stares up at him with an inquisitive almost-glare, a stifled cry as he fussed, rolls and kicking his legs.

His daughter had a family, a son, a husband, and him.

She would not be an orphan.  
-  
He'd lost the race for governorship.

And it was all Hamilton’s fault.  
-  
He challenges him to a duel.

Hamilton, cocky with the knowledge of John Church’s pistols, accepts.

The ball of twine unwinds.  
-  
July 11th, 1804.

The day he would finally rise to the top, no Hamilton standing in his way, or Delaware Delegates being bribed.

He'd waited long enough.  
-  
_Everything is legal in New Jersey_.

Murder is too.  
-  
He leaves New York in secret on July 21st.

It seems as though Alexander was laughing as he rides.  
-  
It’s 1812, and he's tired.

His daughter isn't an orphan, but it seems like it when she glances at him with tears in her eyes and says: “I'm going back to New York, Papa.”  
-  
She doesn't come back, however long he waits at the docks, her name hoarse in the wind.

When Joseph shows up at his door, Aaron Jr. is not behind him.  
-  
Joseph dies on September 10th,1816, and his family is gone.

Somehow he's not surprised.  
-  
He marries again, this time a woman named Eliza Jumel, who neither likes nor loves him.

It’s the month of July.

He gets a drink.  
-  
He can't move.

He feels helpless as he listens to the Doctor say: “It's your second stroke, Mr. Burr, I advise you be in a person’s attendance at all time.”

He waits, because that's all he knows.  
-  
It's July 12, 1834 when Eliza’s files for divorce.

He doesn't blame her, his hair is grey, his eyes dull, and the newspaper have all but forgotten him, just a man in a wheelchair. Thomas Jefferson, James Monroe, John Adams, George Washington, all slept under the dust, so why shouldn't he?  
-  
Hamilton did too, but Aaron had put him there.  
-  
He had nothing left, not money, love, nor History books immortalising his name. He was forgotten.  
-  
Some days, when the winds gets cold and the dogs stretches over the moor, Burr thinks back to the days when Hamilton who lean against him, chortling. The calm beam of friendship as they clashed cups together and chat: “We won! We won!”. Hamilton’s ramblings, too complicated and repetitive for any man short of Washington to understand. The quips and smart notes in the margin of a case, Burr rolling his eyes and yelling Alexander to “Get out of my house, it's almost three a.m!”

When did he decide that Alex hated him?  
-

It's September 13th, 1836, when Burr feels a stab of pain in his side. He stumbles, catching his hand on a table as a housekeeper runs up with a concerned look. “Mr. Burr?” She asks. Mr. Burr, not Aaron.

No one’s called him Aaron in so long.  
-

He dies the next day, as Reverend Van Pelt implored him to attempt the existence of God, and Burr, who had waited and waited, all this life, to state something definite, to proclaim out loud his pure and unadulterated opinion on something, bows his head and responds.

“On that subject I am coy.”  
-

Another forgotten man falls.

 

**Author's Note:**

> http://www.aaronburrassociation.org/chronology.htm
> 
> I used mainly his for references and dates in my fic, as well as Ron Chernow's book. 
> 
> Some of it is inaccurate, so I would check your sources before citing me! ;D 
> 
> Kudos are so appreciated!  
> ~Deduction


End file.
